


With a thousand sweet kisses

by grantairrible



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Agender Enjolras, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Nb day, Nonbinary Combeferre, Nonbinary Grantaire, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantairrible/pseuds/grantairrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic I wrote for nb day 2k16, in which Enjolras, Combeferre and Grantaire are dorks in love, and Courfeyrac just wants them to get their collective shit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a thousand sweet kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sneuilly for beta reading this (and for being an all around lovely person)!!
> 
> Enjolras is agender in this fic and goes by ey/em/eir pronouns. Combeferre is nonbinary and goes by xe/xem/xyr. Grantaire is also nb and uses they/them/their pronouns. Courfeyrac is a demiboy and uses he/him/his pronouns.
> 
> Warnings for some (fairly brief) allusions to alcoholism, and a panic attack. If you need more details, let me know and I'll be more than happy to clear things up.

“Does this look alright?”

Enjolras looks up from eir laptop and almost drops it on the floor. Combeferre is wearing jeans that fit in all the right places and a faux leather jacket and new glasses and-

Shit.

“You look great.” _Great_ is an understatement. Enjolras doesn’t know where this look came from, but ey is here for it. Not that Enjolras isn’t attracted to Combeferre the rest of the time, or anything, or even that physical attraction is the most important thing to em. It’s just… _damn._

Combeferre smiles, tugging on xyr sleeves self-consciously. “Thanks. I, um, I have a date tonight. Courfeyrac helped me get dressed and everything but he wanted a second opinion. Third opinion, I guess.”

Enjolras’ stomach drops at the word _date_ , but ey plasters a big fake smile across eir features. “That’s great. You look great. Courf did a great job.” Oh dear, Enjolras is babbling. Eir brain isn’t working too well right now.

Combeferre relaxes the tiniest bit. “Thanks.” Xe sits down on the bed next to Enjolras. “Um. I just wanted you to know since... I don’t know, I just don’t want it to bother you. I’m going out with Grantaire.”

“Oh.” Grantaire. Grantaire and Combeferre. Enjolras knows ey should be happy for them, and ey is, but happiness would not be the term ey would use to describe eir strongest emotion right now.

“I know you don’t like them, but I promise…”

Enjolras has apparently hidden eir feelings far too well if Combeferre, one of eir closest friends, thinks ey doesn’t like Grantaire. Shit. Does Grantaire think ey doesn’t like them?

Combeferre is still talking, a rambling explanation so nervous that Enjolras interrupts xem. “I don’t dislike Grantaire. They get on my nerves sometimes, and I’m not good at showing it, but I do like them. I’m happy for you, ‘Ferre. Both of you.” Ey is also jealous, but ey is far from mad.

A smile blossoms on Combeferre’s face. “Thanks.” Enjolras doesn’t think ey deserves that.

“Come here. You didn’t have to be worried about it, I wasn’t going to get angry or anything.” Enjolras leans over to hug xem. “Go have fun, and text me if you need anything.”

Combeferre presses a quick kiss to eir temple, and gets up to straighten xyr clothes. “Don’t wait up. By which I mean, go to bed at a reasonable time for once, Enjolras.”

Enjolras rolls eir eyes. Combeferre is always like this, so worried about em, even when xe has  bigger things going on. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Go. Have fun.”

Combeferre leaves with a wave and a mumbled _bye_ , and then Enjolras is left alone.

“Shit.”

 

* * *

 

“Are we going to talk about this?”  
Enjolras gives Courfeyrac a Look. He’s the only one who knows about Enjolras’ feelings for Grantaire and Combeferre, but that doesn’t mean ey wants to talk to him about it. “Nope. Did you really have to send xem into my room looking like that with no warning?”

Courfeyrac’s answering grin is evil. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I mean, I did, but not when xe’s looking like that for a date with _someone else."_

“You don’t mean that when it’s Grantaire xe’s going out with.”

“Stop being so right, Courfeyrac, nobody likes it when you do that.”

“Oh, Enjy,” Courfeyrac coos obnoxiously, wrapping an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. “You’ll like it when I craft a foolproof plan to get you in on their action.”

“Tell me everything.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Courfeyrac says, when they’re curled up on the couch together with a bottle of wine. “So. Plan of action.”

“I don’t want to intrude, if they’re-”

“Don’t even finish that thought.” Courfeyrac comes dangerously close to spilling his wine with his sharp gesture. “Whoops. Anyway, if you haven’t noticed Grantaire’s feelings for you, I give up. You’re beyond hope.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Shhh, let me finish,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras elects to take a gulp of wine instead of speaking. “You know how you always come to me to talk about your feelings for Combeferre? Well, xe does the same for you.”

Enjolras chokes on eir wine. “ _What?_ Then why is xe on a date with Grantaire?”

“Stop being willfully oblivious. It’s because you three have the most annoyingly reciprocated love triangle and _none of you have realised it_. Seriously, get your shit together, you guys are the outlier here. It shouldn’t be that hard. I didn’t have this problem with Marius and Cosette. The JBM trio never had this problem.”

“That’s because you actually like to cultivate healthy relationships through communication, like a weirdo, and the JBM relationship was literally an accident. I think we’re actually a model of a more typical situation.”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says, grinning over his wine. “You just talked about the three of you as a _we_. Progress has been made.”

Enjolras rolled eir eyes. “And what is the next step, O Enlightened One?”

“Grantaire’s been rubbing off on you. Cute. You’ve got to make them believe you genuinely like them, so keep doing shit like that. Just don’t come off too strong, or you might freak them out. Especially Grantaire. And seriously, just _talk to them_.”

“Are you going to give me a makeover too?”

“Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac and Enjolras are a little tipsy by the time Combeferre makes it home. It’s past midnight, fairly late for a night in but not remotely in the grand scheme of nights out, and Enjolras has spent the past hour or so as Courfeyrac’s dress-up doll. Ey doesn’t know where Courfeyrac got the clothes, but ey likes the skirt that he gave em, and had patiently sat still while Courfeyrac applied red lipstick and braided eir hair.

Since neither of them are quite sober, when they hear Grantaire wishing Combeferre goodnight, they ambush the pair. Enjolras doesn’t miss the way Grantaire stares at em, or Combeferre’s barely visible blush. Interesting.

“You’ve been having fun, I see,” Combeferre says, an eyebrow raised. “How did you manage to stay home and get more drunk than us?”

“Enjolras is a lightweight, and it wasn’t fun being sober alone,” Courfeyrac explains.

“Fair enough,” Grantaire says, shrugging. “I’m not one to judge.”

“Do you want to come in for coffee? Or an another hot beverage if you don’t want the caffeine to keep you up all night?” Combeferre offers.

Grantaire looks sorely tempted to say something about being kept up all night, but a look from Combeferre cuts off their unspoken double entendre. They bite their lip, and Enjolras certainly notices the glance they send em. “Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.”

Thankfully, Enjolras isn’t properly drunk, and sobers up pretty quickly over a mug of green tea. Eir lipstick leaves an imprint on the cup, and eventually ey just wipes it all off, since it’s bound to be all patchy and gross-looking by now.

“I haven’t seen you wear lipstick before,” Grantaire says. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras says, ducking eir head. Ey doesn’t wear it very often for the simple fact that ey is utterly terrible at applying it.

“Just because you haven’t seen em wear it before doesn’t mean ey hasn’t,” Combeferre says, smirking. Enjolras wants to kiss that look off xyr face. Then ey registers what xe just said.

“You told me you deleted those photos.”

“Xe did,” Courfeyrac says, “I just got copies first.”

“Grantaire doesn’t need to see them.”

Grantaire looks at em incredulously. “Grantaire _does_.”

Enjolras doesn’t really mind, but still buries eir face in eir hands while Courfeyrac brings out his phone and shows Grantaire the pictures - Enjolras’ eighteenth birthday, the first time ey’d properly gotten drunk. Eir lipstick in the photos is crimson and smeared and-

Since when was there video footage? Ey really does not need to hear emself singing drunken karaoke. Enjolras doesn’t care if other people see, ey just doesn’t like remembering making an astronomical fool of emself. Still, if it helps Grantaire see em in a different light...

“Well, that was unexpected,” Grantaire says cheerily when the video finishes. “My life has been vastly improved with this knowledge.”

Enjolras groans, hiding eir smile in eir hands.

“Thank you for that enlightening experience, but I should really be off if I want to get the last train home.”

“You can stay,” Combeferre says, after a silent conversation with Courfeyrac mostly consisting of various combinations of raised eyebrows. “It’s late, it’ll take you ages to get back to your place. The couch is a sofa bed which is mildly comfortable. We can hang out if you’re not tired yet. I mean, if it’s okay with you guys?”

Courfeyrac and Enjolras are quick to agree. Enjolras ignores the nudge Courfeyrac gives em under the table.  
“Oh, uh. Thanks.” Grantaire blinks.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something, then, or-?” Combeferre offers.  
“Sure.”

None of them are particularly tired, despite the late hour, so they end up playing Mario Kart, and Enjolras learns that ey is terrible at it, which doesn’t mesh well with eir competitiveness. Combeferre beats them all by far, a hidden talent, apparently, and eventually they vacate the couch so Grantaire can sleep.

Enjolras lies awake long after going to bed, long enough to hear the creak of the floorboards and then the low murmur of voices as Combeferre joins Grantaire, and then the creaking floorboards again as they both sneak into Combeferre’s room. Enjolras wants to go and join them, but ey knows that would be really fucking weird, so ey plays out the scene in eir head as ey lies in the dark, and eir dreams are full of two sets of hands and lips against em.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire is back on the sofa bed when Enjolras wakes, far too early, the next morning.

“Morning,” they say, looking up from their phone. Their hair and clothes are rumpled, their eyes tired, and Enjolras’ heart aches at how beautiful they are.

At a loss for the words ey really wants to say, all Enjolras says is, “Good morning.”

Grantaire stretches, and Enjolras notices the bruises on their neck, but doesn’t say anything. Enjolras wishes Combeferre would leave hickeys on em like that too, but it’s a bit hard to be annoyed at the lack of them when ey hasn’t even hinted at eir romantic feelings for the literal years ey has been crushing on xem.

“...are you okay? Your eyes are looking a little glazed. Maybe you should go back to bed?”

Enjolras shakes emself out of it. “I’m fine. Just zoned out for a second. Sorry. I’m going to make some coffee, you want any?”

“That sounds heavenly.”

Once the coffee is ready, they sit on the sofa bed and talk in quiet, sleep-hoarse voices, bundled up in the blankets, which are still warm from the heat of Grantaire’s body. Enjolras doesn’t think ey has ever had a pleasant conversation this long with only them, and it’s so pleasant.

As eir coffee turns cold, enraptured as ey is by Grantaire’s rambling spiel on YA literature, Enjolras realises eir feelings for Grantaire might be stronger than ey previously thought.

At least, if anything, the way Grantaire lights up with Enjolras’ undivided attention on them is evidence in favour of Courfeyrac’s account of those feelings being reciprocated, and Enjolras allows emself to hope.

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac makes them crepes, because Courfeyrac is _magnificent_ , and they even have toppings for them because having Courfeyrac as a roommate means that Enjolras and Combeferre can’t get away with living off ramen noodles when they have more important things to do than grocery shopping or menu planning.

Courfeyrac isn’t necessarily the best cook, although he’s decent enough so long as he has a recipe to follow, but he’s been making these crepes all his life and they are as magnificent as him. Grantaire, who has somehow never eaten Courfeyrac’s crepes before, actually moans when they taste them for the first time. Enjolras and Combeferre pause for a long moment, forks raised halfway to their mouths.

Grantaire doesn’t even notice, just gestures to their plate, mouth full, and says, “These are incredible.”

Courfeyrac, who has emptied approximately an entire container of nutella onto his own crepe, preens. Enjolras, eating eir own crepe dusted with lemon and sugar, is seriously judging him. Ey thought Courfeyrac was patriotic, for heaven’s sake.

When they’re finished, Grantaire tries to wash all of the dishes, but Courfeyrac elbows them out of the kitchen.

“Don’t even think about it, darling,” Courfeyrac says, and proceeds to blast show tunes while singing into the dish brush. Enjolras hopes that the neighbours were already awake.

“I should go, then. Thanks for having me.” Grantaire eyes Courfeyrac, a little concerned, as if Joly hadn’t sent Enjolras a snapchat a week ago of Grantaire singing along to bad 80s music, using their paintbrush as a microphone.

“I’ll see you out,” Combeferre says, and takes their hand.

Enjolras picks up a tea towel and joins Courfeyrac, acting as an audience for his one-man performance.

“Nice work,” Courfeyrac says, during one of the dance breaks in the _Newsies_ soundtrack - cast recording, Enjolras mentally corrects, since ey’s heard the spiel often enough to know better. “Do you believe me now?”

“Yes, yes,” Enjolras says, wiping the frying pan dry, “You were right, you’re a genius, etcetera etcetera. A… demiprince among men.”

“You’re right, I am.”

 

* * *

  
Enjolras is more than a little confused when Combeferre comes home one afternoon with Grantaire, who’s clutching an extremely grumpy looking fluffy grey cat and an empty cat carrier. Enjolras sets eir pen down.

“Do I want to know?”

“Sorry,” Combeferre says, dropping a bag filled with cat supplies on the floor. “Grantaire’s having an inspection tomorrow and they’re not supposed to have a cat in their apartment so I offered ours. Is that okay?”

“Is it _okay?_ ” Enjolras rushes over to the cat to scratch behind its ears. “Of _course_ it is. What’s its name?”

“Her name is Purrsephone.”

Enjolras laughs; ey’s always been one to appreciate a good pun. “Can I hold her?”

 

* * *

 

Despite being a very grumpy-looking cat, Purrsephone turns out to _adore_ Enjolras, following em around the apartment all afternoon, even when Grantaire is still there. Ey sits at the table to work on an essay, and she jumps up on eir lap, her fluffy tail tickling eir nose. Her purr is deafening, and Enjolras eventually abandons eir studies to sit on the floor and wiggle cat toys in front of her nose.

At least, until her claws sink into eir hand and ey realises why there are strings on so many of the toys. Ey also learns that Purrsephone lying on her back is not an invitation to scratch her stomach, as it would be for a dog, and will result in scratching _and_ biting _and_ kicking.

Enjolras uses up a lot of antiseptic over the course of Purrsephone’s stay due to cat-related injuries.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras wakes to the sound of a camera shutter, and blearily opens eir eyes. There’s a weird weight on eir chest, and ey looks down to see Purrsephone curled up into a contented ball, living up to her name and purring.

Combeferre, seeing that Enjolras is awake, hastily stows away xyr phone.

“Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Of course not.”

Enjolras sighs, and Purrsephone makes a rumbling noise as eir chest moves. “Just don’t put it up on anything.”

“I sent it to R, but nobody else. They miss Seph.”

Enjolras sighs again. “Fine. Can I see it?”

Combeferre hands over xyr phone, and it’s open to xyr message log with Grantaire. The picture of Enjolras is thankfully not too bad - there isn’t any drool, at least - and just as Enjolras is about to hand the phone back, it vibrates.

 

 _Grantaire:_ um

 _Grantaire:_ what is that

 _Grantaire:_ are you trying to kill me because congratulations you were successful

 

Enjolras hopes that Combeferre doesn’t notice eir blush as ey hands back the phone. Xe doesn’t say anything, at least, and Enjolras settles against the couch cushions and starts scratching behind Purrsephone’s ears. Combeferre joins them once xe’s replied to Grantaire, lifting up Enjolras’ legs to sit under them so xe can also reach Purrsephone and pat her.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire comes over later that night to pick up Purrsephone, and Enjolras is reluctant to let her go.

“You know,” Grantaire says, struggling to fit Seph into her carrier, “you can come over and visit her whenever.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve ever been to your place before, I don’t want to intrude.”

“I literally invited you, Enjolras, it’s fine. I just never thought you’d want to hang out with me of your own volition before.”

“Oh.” Enjolras stops trying to pat Purrsephone through the bars of the carrier. “I’m sorry, R.”

“Don’t be, it was me being stupid. I’m not good at believing people like me without, like constant reassurance. Hence why Joly and Bossuet are the best friends ever.”

“I’ll just have to do that too, then,” Enjolras says stubbornly. “Because I do like you, Grantaire, I’m just bad with feelings sometimes. Ask Courfeyrac.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Grantaire hefts Purrsephone’s carrier. “And seriously, just text me when you want to come and see Seph.”

“Or you?”

Grantaire almost loses their grip on the carrier, and Purrsephone hisses. “Shit. Um, yeah, sure. I’ll see you around, Enjolras.”

 

* * *

 

“How are things going with you and Grantaire?”

Combeferre looks up from the newspaper xe was reading. “Since when are you into gossip?”

“This isn’t gossip, this is me caring about my friends.” Enjolras steals Combeferre’s coffee, takes a sip, grimaces, and returns it.

Combeferre glances down, smiling shyly. “Things are good, but we’re taking it slow. Nothing’s official yet.”

“But they make you happy?”

“Very much so.”

“Good,” Enjolras says. “I’d have to go after them on your behalf otherwise.”

“Good luck with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Combeferre snorts. “Enjolras, please. They’re a trained martial artist and you’re…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

 

* * *

 

Enjolras is playing Mario Party with Feuilly and Bahorel for some reason one afternoon, which is only a recipe for disaster. Ey’s kind of relieved when Feuilly looks over at em and says, “What’s this I hear about Combeferre and Grantaire?” It seems Enjolras can’t escape this relationship ey wants in on, even when ey isn’t around them.

Enjolras raises eir eyebrows at Feuilly. “Sounds like you already know.”

Feuilly pauses the game, and Bahorel starts paying attention to the conversation going on around her.

“No, seriously, since when are Combeferre and Grantaire a thing?” Feuilly asks, and Bahorel nods.

“I always thought-” she breaks off. “Never mind.”

“You can’t leave it hanging there.”

Bahorel and Feuilly share a glance. “It’s just,” Feuilly says slowly, “that if either of them were going to date anyone, we would have thought it would be you.”  
“Yeah, well.” Enjolras blushes. “I’m working on it.”

Bahorel cheers and gets up to pull Enjolras into a bone-crushing hug, lifting em off eir feet.

“Shit, Bahorel,” Enjolras says, “I thought estrogen was meant to make you lose muscle.”

“I have, a bit. You’re just tiny.”

Enjolras is a perfectly reasonable height, thank you very much, ey just isn’t nearly seven feet tall in heels like Bahorel is. And Bahorel likes to wear heels - she loves her stature and muscles, but she also loves to present in a feminine way. She’s loud and unapologetic about her gender, even when she gets harassed for it. It’s different with Feuilly, who’s just as agender as Enjolras but isn’t out to anyone but Les Amis, who somehow manages to be so kind and wonderful despite being so often misgendered.

Enjolras wishes ey could make things better for them, that ey could tear away every harmful and bigoted opinion, but ey _can’t_ , and ey loves eir friends so much that sometimes it’s hard not to just break down and cry when people hurt them over and over just for existing.

At least, like this, they’re happy, Bahorel and Feuilly trading insults and kisses, Enjolras pretending to be grossed out.

“Admit it,” Bahorel says, one arm wrapped around Feuilly, “You’re jealous.”

Enjolras rolls eir eyes and puts on a front, but ey _is_ jealous of the two of them, of how much they love each other.

 

* * *

 

The exam period swings around, and Les Amis take a break from meetings, since they’re all too busy and stressed to be any good at organising anything, and Grantaire starts spending a lot of time at the triumvirate’s apartment.

It’s nice - Enjolras is more than happy with the arrangement - but it doesn’t exactly help eir stress levels to see Grantaire disappearing into Combeferre’s room with dripping hair turning an already thin t-shirt transparent, clinging to their shoulders.

Grantaire is also the first of the four of them to be done with exams, and Enjolras appreciates them cooking dinner all the time and generally being around to help out, but it’s also really hard to concentrate on practice exams when they’re helping Combeferre study, rewarding xem with kisses for right answers.

It also doesn’t help when Enjolras has a panic attack the night before an exam and knows that Grantaire can hear eir choked breaths, knows that they’re waiting in the room over for Combeferre while xe brings em down, talking Enjolras into somehow stopping eir awful repetitive gasps for breath. It’s hard to stop once it gets into a rhythm, and no matter how often this happens Enjolras will always hate the grip anxiety has on em, the way eir brain won’t shut up and eir lungs won’t stop and eir legs shake. Above anything, ey hates the feeling that ey can’t control eir body.

“Hey,” Combeferre says eventually - xe’s probably been saying it over and over in that gentle soothing tone of xyrs, but Enjolras hasn’t been in a place to hear it - “that’s it, keep breathing for me.”

Enjolras gasps against xyr chest, where ey’s soaked xyr jumper with tears, but manages the breath, and then another, eir chest shuddering as ey forces eir lungs to cooperate.

“Sorry,” Enjolras says, when ey can manage words.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Enjolras doesn’t bother trying to argue, just relaxes into the hug, relishing the feeling of being able to breathe properly.

 

* * *

 

“Oh,” Enjolras says when ey walks into the apartment one afternoon to find Grantaire teaching Combeferre how to dance. That explains the music ey could hear from the corridor. “I’ll just-” ey turns around and tries to leave, to give them some time alone, but Combeferre has already noticed em, and beckons em over.

“Take my place for me,” Combeferre says, collapsing onto the couch. “I’m terrible at this.”

Enjolras, a little dazed, allows Grantaire to take eir hands and position them on their body. As they all find out rather quickly, Enjolras is hopeless at salsa dancing.

“Okay,” Grantaire says, after nearly quarter of an hour of trying and failing to teach Enjolras to dance, and wraps their arms around em to lift em onto their feet. “Let’s try something else.”

Enjolras slaps at Grantaire’s arms half-heartedly, but allows Grantaire to walk them around the room like that for a couple of minutes before begging off.

“Wow,” Combeferre says, once Enjolras has collapsed onto the couch next to xem. “And I thought I was terrible at dancing.”

Grantaire smiles down at them. “Good news, you’re _both_ terrible.”

“Fuck off,” Combeferre says, and throws the nearest cushion at them.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras is sprawled across Grantaire’s living room floor - if you can call it that, it’s more a living space, given that there’s only really one room in this entire apartment - teasing Purrsephone with a cat toy. She’s also stretched out, lying in a tiny strip of sunlight that’s struggling through heavy clouds. Occasionally, she reaches out and bats at the toy, but she’s mostly content to just lie there and purr.

All of them are sleepy and lazy, and they have the time to be, for once. Combeferre is curled up on the couch, a book in xyr lap, glasses sliding down xyr nose. Grantaire is sitting on the floor in front of xem, sketching, Combeferre reaching down to run a hand through their hair intermittently.

It’s soft and quiet and everything that Enjolras wants.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras isn’t really a party person. It’s not that ey doesn’t enjoy them, necessarily, it’s just that sometimes they’re just too much and it can get a little overwhelming.

When it’s just the inner circle of Les Amis, however, ey can handle it. Mostly.

Marius and Cosette and Courfeyrac have already disappeared to Courfeyrac’s room, and will no doubt emerge soon looking distinctly rumpled. Enjolras doesn’t even want to think about that. Apparently Marius is a good kisser and, to quote Courfeyrac, a “very tender lover”, but… it’s _Pontmercy_. Enjolras shudders at the thought.

“How’s it going?”

Enjolras looks up to see Grantaire, who’s clutching a can of soft drink, not alcohol, for once.

“Alright.” Enjolras has just been people-watching for the last few minutes, recovering a bit before ey will join in with the revelry again. “Designated driver?”

“Huh?” Grantaire looks down at their drink. “Um, no. I’m cutting back, or trying to, at least.”

“Congratulations,” Enjolras says, but it doesn’t quite sound like the right thing to say. “Or, well done? I don’t know. I’m proud of you, at least.”

Grantaire shrugs, uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

Enjolras always feels so awkward at these kinds of gatherings, even when ey knows and loves everyone here. Ey can’t even think of anything to say to keep this conversation moving.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says softly, sinking into the spot next to em. “Is something wrong?”

Ey wrinkles eir nose. “I’m feeling a bit off, and, I don’t know. I’m just jittery and restless. Parties are hard sometimes.”

“Do you want to go for a walk? I’m not doing so well with everyone drinking, so I could use a break too.”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Grab your coat, I’ll meet you at the door.”

“Wait,” Enjolras says, half out of eir seat. “What about Combeferre?”

Grantaire glances at Combeferre, who’s engaged in a very serious-looking conversation with Feuilly, their heads bowed together. “I’ll let xem know, but xe really won’t mind. Xe’s not weird or controlling or anything. Don’t worry.”

Enjolras half-smiles. “Easier said than done.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Enjolras says, shoving eir hands in eir pockets. It’s cold outside, breath steaming in the air, and Enjolras feels properly awake for the first time in ages. “How did you and Combeferre start dating?”

Grantaire shoots Enjolras a crooked grin. “Mutual interests.”

There’s something their tone that makes Enjolras blush and glance away, but surely they don’t mean em.

Surely.

 

* * *

 

The party has quieted down a bit by the time Enjolras and Grantaire return. Marius, Courfeyrac, and Cosette have emerged and are now sprawled on the carpet playing cards with Feuilly and Jehan. Bahorel and Bossuet are having a thumb war while Joly watches on worriedly, Musichetta alternating between running her fingers through his hair and talking to Combeferre.

The music has been turned down, the drinks abandoned, and it’s a much easier atmosphere for them to slot into.

“What are you playing?” Enjolras asks, joining the cards group.

“Spoons,” Courfeyrac says, looking up long enough to miss Cosette snatching up one of the spoons lightning fast, followed by everyone else, and ends up losing that round. “Want to play?”

“You just want us to start over so you’re not out,” Feuilly says, dealing the cards, but includes Courfeyrac along with Grantaire and Enjolras, and sends for more spoons.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Combeferre says, nudging Enjolras with xyr knee. “Everyone’s gone, time for bed.”

Enjolras blinks awake against xyr leg. “What?”

“Everyone’s gone home. Bedtime.”

Enjolras looks around, and sure enough, the apartment is empty apart from Grantaire, who is picking up the detritus spread about the apartment.

“R, don’t do that, we can do it in the morning.”

Grantaire shrugs, dropping an armload of bottles into the recycling bin with far too much noise for this late at night. “I don’t mind. Courfeyrac’s already gone to bed with Marius and Cosette, so you’re not going to get it done until tomorrow. Or later today, technically.”

“It’s fine, R, a little mess can wait until the morning,” Combeferre says, helping Enjolras up. “Come to bed.”

For a minute, Enjolras thinks the invitation is for em, and goes to follow Combeferre. “Sorry, I’ll just-”

“Come here,” Combeferre says, and catches Enjolras’ wrist. Enjolras follows, bewildered, but doesn’t say anything as Combeferre leads em to xyr bed, where they all crash on top of the covers, fully clothed, and fall asleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras wakes up weirdly comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time, and absolutely certain that ey is not in eir bed.

And also that ey is not alone in said bed.

Ey opens eir eyes, and catches sight of Combeferre and Grantaire sprawled on either side of em.

Ah.

That’s right.

Grantaire looks over at the movement, offering a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Mmm.” Enjolras stretches, rolling over onto eir stomach and resting eir chin on eir arms, looking up at them. “Good morning.”

Combeferre begins to stir awake the sound, groaning and stretching. “What-? Oh. Hi, Enjolras.”

Enjolras stifles a laugh with eir arms. “Hi. Are we going to talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre says, yawning. “After breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

“So…” Enjolras has no fucking clue what to say.

Grantaire nods. “Yeah. Um.”

Combeferre shakes xyr head at them. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Well,” Grantaire says, “We’re lucky to have you, then.”

Enjolras grins. Ey likes where this conversation is headed. “Does that mean…?”

“Does it mean what?” Combeferre asks, as if xe has no idea what Enjolras is trying to ask.

“I don’t know how to say it!”

Grantaire laughs. “Enjolras, at a loss for words for once?”

“It’s hard to think around you two.” The words slip out and Enjolras freezes, trying to gauge a reaction. Grantaire looks as though the breath has been punched out of them, and Combeferre reaches out to take Enjolras’ hand.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says, “you don’t have to be nervous around us.”

“I do,’ Enjolras says. “I really, really do.”

Grantaire is still dumbfounded, so Combeferre asks, “Why?”

“Because I care about you so much, and…” Enjolras bites eir lip. “And I’m happy to take whatever you’ll give me because more than anything I just want to be around you.”

“What if we want something else than just that?”

“Then I would say yes, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

“Oh my God,” Grantaire says, finally breaking out of their shocked silence. “This is getting ridiculous. Enjolras, we’ve both had romantic feelings for you for a long time, and it sounds like you reciprocate. So, will you go out with us?”

“Of course,” Enjolras says. “I’ve been half in love with both of you for ages, and you never noticed, and we could have been doing this for _weeks_ now.”

“This being-?” Combeferre’s voice is teasing, and Enjolras wants to punch xyr face. With eir face. Which is to say, kiss xem.

“Just come here and kiss me, you idiot.”

Combeferre doesn’t argue with that.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Grantaire says, when they’re on their first date. Enjolras doesn’t know how to act or where to put eir hands or how long ey should look at Grantaire and Combeferre. “Relax. It’s just us.” They bump Enjolras’ knee under the table with their own.

“That’s the point though,” Enjolras says. “It’s _you._ ”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been ridiculously in love with you, do you?” Grantaire says.

Enjolras drops eir fork. “What?” Ey knew Grantaire had feelings for em - it would be hard not to - but ey didn’t realise how strong, and for how long.

“Ey doesn’t know,” Combeferre says. “I don’t know how, but ey doesn’t.”

“I think I was too busy being in love with both of you to even think about,” Enjolras says, not meeting their eyes.

Combeferre shakes xyr head, smiling. “You say stuff like that and it’s so frustrating because it’s as though we don’t feel the exact same way about you.”

“Oh,” is all Enjolras can say.

“Yeah.” Grantaire grins. “Do you get it now?”

Enjolras still can’t meet their eyes, but it’s out of a different kind of overwhelming feeling. Ey can’t hold back a smile. “You love me.”

“I know it’s not a first date kind of confession,” Grantaire says, “but God, it’s been so long.”

“It’s okay,” Enjolras says. “I’m not running away.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe this is real,” Combeferre says, after kissing Enjolras breathless, Grantaire’s hand warm on eir side, skin against skin.

“That’s the thing,” Enjolras says, because Grantaire and Combeferre keep treating em as something impossibly precious and unreal, all of them too stunned to believe that they are all equally in love with each other. Ey echoes Combeferre’s sentiment from earlier teasingly, if in different words: “I feel exactly the same way about you.”

Combeferre kisses em, and Grantaire tackles xem away to kiss em, and then kisses Combeferre, and it’s a tangle of limbs and clothes and sheets and what Enjolras said was true, ey can’t believe this is real.

Grantaire is beautiful, face red as they laugh, their curls a wild tangle, and Combeferre is equally as beautiful, xyr crisp and unruffled exterior completely gone, glasses askew, corner of xyr eyes wrinkled from how wide xyr smile is.

“I love you,” Enjolras says, and wraps eir arms around eir partners, pressing kisses to every inch of available skin. Ey’s kept it hidden for so long, and now not only does ey have the freedom to say it, eir feelings are reciprocated.

Later, catching eir breath as sweat cools on eir skin, Enjolras realises ey has Courfeyrac to thank for a lot of this. He’s going to be insufferable. “Damn it.”

“Hmm?” Combeferre doesn’t even lift xyr head.

“Nothing, go to sleep.” It can wait. Nothing is important as this.

Almost nothing. Apparently Purrsephone thinks she’s more important, if the way she’s meowing for food is any indication.

“Fucking cat,” Grantaire says, stumbling out of bed without bothering to put any clothes on. Enjolras, curled up in the warm sheets, enjoys the view. Ey could definitely get used to this, cat disruptions and all.


End file.
